


Dogs and Damn Dogs

by megankent



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M, Old West, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-05
Updated: 2011-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megankent/pseuds/megankent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck brings home an unexpected friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dogs and Damn Dogs

Chris heard distant, off-key singing a good minute before the thud of hooves and the low creak of leather, and set aside the door lever he'd been carving. Stretching upright, he watched the distant tree line for his visitor. Buck's grey stepped out of the shadows, moving at a slow walk. Chris shaded his eyes against the late afternoon sun. Something was wrong--different--and it sent a chill down his spine. He stepped down from the covered porch and scanned the horizon for a threat or a warning, but couldn't spot anything out of place. If there was something bad wrong, he reasoned, Buck wouldn't be singing, and he sure wouldn't be coming in at such a leisurely pace.

Chris watched, waiting as horse and rider ambled closer, and the wrongness resolved into a body draped across the big grey's rump. A few more steps closer, and Chris saw it wasn't a person but a wolf--no, he decided, just a damn big dog. Mottled brown, black and white, it lay sprawled across the horse's wide hips, apparently at ease.

"Howdy, Chris." Buck let the horse have his head, and he wandered across the cleared yard to the water trough. Chris followed, and as the horse turned he spotted a bloody rag tied on one hind leg of the animal.

"I don't need a dog, Buck." Chris tried to head off the conversation before it even started. The last thing he needed was one more thing to be responsible for. He'd already picked up a half-dozen men and a whole damn town.

Buck swung down, and then eased the dog down after. She, and it was a she, Chris observed, was calm under Buck's hands, but once on the ground she set off at a three-legged jog to explore the new territory. "Good," he countered. "Because she ain't yours, she's mine."

The enthusiastic welcome Chris had planned pretty much evaporated, right then. "Oh, yeah?" He couldn't see Buck keeping the dog in town. For damn sure Mrs. Anton from the boarding house would have something to say about it, and she was one woman, as far as Chris had seen, that Buck hadn't ever managed to charm.

"Yeah." The stubborn set of Buck's jaw, damn near a pout, twisted the edge of anxiety Chris had felt earlier over the edge into anger.

"Damn it, Buck! We don't stay out here regular enough to look after a dog. Hell, it'll probably end up cougar bait, or in some poor Indian's cook pot." Buck opened his mouth, but Chris waved the argument away. "Don't even try to tell me that you're going to keep it in town. That ain't gonna cut it, either."

A flush of anger started to climb from Buck's collar up toward his hairline. "You ain't my pa, Chris, and you don't get to tell me if I can have a dog or not." He gathered up the reins, pulling the grey's head up before he was done drinking his fill. "You can say whether we get to stay tonight, it being your land, and all. But Lady Lee and I are a staying or going together."

It would serve Buck right if Chris threw the both of them right off his property. "Wait a minute, you gave her a name?" Chris had made fun of Buck for naming his damn horse, but a dog he'd barely known a day?

"Of course I gave her a name! She saved my life, and got hurt in the process." Buck nodded at the dog, which was sniffing intently at the side of the barn where Chris figured the local skunk family had been sheltering. He damn well would throw her off the property and Buck out of his bed if they ended up getting sprayed. "Besides, she likes it. Watch..." Buck whistled sharply, and the dog looked up, intent. "Come on, Lady. Come here." The dog's gait was smoother than Chris would have expected, considering that it couldn't put any weight on its back right leg. It pressed its muzzle into Buck's outstretched hand, and then leaned up against his side, rubbing its grimy fur against Buck's dusty trousers. Chris thought about getting Buck out of those trousers, and figured maybe he could overlook the dog. Heck, maybe it would wander off on its own, and solve the whole problem.

"OK, but it's not coming inside." The house was barely big enough for the two of them anyway.

Buck smiled his gratitude. "No problem. I'll just toss a couple of saddle blankets up on the porch." He reached up under his stirrup to loosen the girth. "You got anything I can feed her? She's done okay on hardtack and beans, but I figure a bit of meat would help her healing."

Chris sighed, already imagining his sparse larder thinned even further by this unexpected visitor. He figured he could set out a pan of water for her, though, and the edge trimming from the ham he'd been saving should be good enough for the dog. He'd be damned if he'd call her by that stupid name, though.

Ten minutes later, the dog was sprawled on the porch, chewing on a stick the size of Chris's wrist like it was a soup bone, and Buck stepped in through the front door, shaking his wet hair back from his face, naked and dripping from his quick dunk in the creek out back. Chris had beans and bacon warming on the stove, along with a pot of coffee, but the sudden fire in his groin was hotter than the cook stove next to him. The grin on Buck's face let him know he wasn't hiding anything, either.

"Dinner can wait." He slid both pots away from the heat and stepped in, brushing away a drip of water with one hand and pulling Buck forward with the other. It was barely three steps from the door to the bed, but it seemed too far, with two sets of hands trying to work Chris's buttons free.

"Chris--"

"Let me--"

"Damn it--"

It was easier, in the end, to tip Buck back onto the bed, and strip off the last of his clothing, and pretend he wasn't blushing under Buck's hungry gaze. He finally kicked free of his boots and his trousers, and let Buck pull him down. The bed was narrow--Chris hadn't built it for two--and ropes stretched and creaked beneath them, but the straw ticking was fresh and he'd changed the linens just this morning. Buck was warm and wiry under him, and they both squirmed until they were settled front to front, pressed together from knees to shoulders, with Buck's erection burning like a brand at Chris's hip.

His own organ, hungry for more stimulation, rocked forward, scraping across rough hair and smooth skin, sparking fire that rushed through him, then twisted hot and heavy in his gut and his groin. The warm and wet that was Buck's mouth traced up his shoulder and Chris's head rocked back, giving him room, gasping in the suddenly hot space. His mouth was filled with Buck's wicked tongue, and Chris sunk his hands deep in damp hair to keep it there. Rocking, sucking, pulling, pushing, it was all sensation and no grace, but that was what made it so good. And then, when Buck arched hard and long against him, Chris met him strain for strain and breath for breath, feeling his whole body wound tight as a spring before the sudden and sharp release. Chris clung hard, riding his own climax and Buck's like wild river rapids until they were both wrung out and gasping hard for air.

"Damn," Buck's voice was low, laughing, and Chris hid his own smile in warm, damp skin.

A few minutes later, sweaty and sated, Chris turned his head toward the door that was swaying in the evening breeze--and froze. The damn dog was sitting there, watching them!

"Buck!" Chris hissed, torn between anger and mortification.

"What?" Buck hadn't even picked his head up, and if Chris didn't act soon, he'd be eating dinner alone while Buck napped.

"She-- The dog?" Chris gestured with his chin, and grabbed for his pants which ought to be somewhere within arm's reach, damn it.

Buck chuckled, but the easy roll of it through his body did little to calm Chris's nerves. "What? You think she's gonna jump you next?" Chris's blind fumbling finally encountered fabric, and he slid into the trousers both legs at once, ignoring Buck's startled oof as he climbed out of the bed. He closed the door in the dog's face and nudged a chair in front to keep it that way until he could fix the latch, all the while studiously ignoring Buck's continued amusement at his prudishness.

It took him a few more minutes to reheat food and lure Buck out of the bed, but they both wound up sprawled on the front porch, leaning back against the raw planks of the house, and Chris tried hard to suppress his annoyance as Buck fed half his dinner to the damn dog.

"Okay," he sighed finally. "Tell me."

Buck tried an innocent look, but Chris wasn't buying it for a minute. He was all but bursting to tell the story of the damn mutt's supposed heroics.

"Well, you know that place over by Hansen's ford, where the trail washed out last spring?" Chris nodded; old Jurgen Hansen had lost a half-dozen cattle in the flash flood that had also washed out the most direct path to the railroad, slowing down supplies for almost a month. "Well, old Beau and I were just walking along, minding our business, right up under that old oak tree that's hanging half over the trail."

Chris nodded again. If it would have worked, he'd have shaken the damn story out of Buck. But near as Chris could tell, there wasn't a damn thing that would make the man go faster when he was mid-yarn. So Chris sighed, and wished he hadn't drunk his last drop of whiskey the night before.

"Well, there we were, thinking of home and all, and out from under this bush bursts the most beautiful dog in the world, barking fit to wake the dead." Chris had his mouth open to ask why Buck hadn't brought that one home instead, but caught himself just in time. There wasn't anyone but Buck who'd call this dog, lazing half-on her side with her tongue lolling out, beautiful. But then he remembered who was doing the talking, and if she really had saved Buck's life, maybe she had earned a bit of care and feeding. Maybe. "And it was a damn good thing she did, because no sooner had I pulled up than a cougar that probably outweighed JD came flying down off that overhanging branch, smooth as Ezra's finest whiskey."

Mountain lions wouldn't usually attack a full-grown man or a horse, unless they were hurt, or sickening for something. Chris's fingers reflexively itched for his Winchester.

"Before you could say Jack Robinson, this crazy, brave dog had it by the ear, pulling for all she was worth." Chris had seen some trained hunting dogs in his day, but damn few who'd face down a full-grown cougar. "She gave me enough time to pull out my rifle and plug the damn thing, but not before it damn near ripped her leg off." Buck patted gently at the injured hindquarters.

Chris figured, even allowing for Buck's natural exaggeration, that he probably did owe the dog some consideration, but he'd be damned if he'd admit it. "She still isn't coming inside," he warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Buck mocked, stroking the large head that rested on his knee. "I'm gonna take you into town tomorrow," he said to the dog, "so Nathan can take a look at that leg." Buck smiled so sweetly that it made Chris's gut twist just a little. "Chris, you want to come with us?"

Chris was nodding before he realized it, but it was worth it when that same sweet smile turned his way. He'd just have to remember that smile when he started scratching at fleas.

END


End file.
